Eleven Eleven

More Than A Feeling

It never seized to amaze me how one person's attitude could affect an entire group of people. After ending up Xander's walking dishrag, everyone slowly stood and followed their bandmate back to the RV. Unfortunately for the boys, about halfway to there, they were stopped by a group of teenage girls. Not of interest, they let me slip by without a second thought. Xander, too, with the help of a guard, had already fell into a recliner. As soon as he heard my footsteps, he looked as if he wanted to stand and retreat back out on to the pier-as far away form me as possible. Realizing he wouldn't get anywhere but thrown back into his seat, he crossed his good arm over his chest and averted his eyes to the TV over my head. I lowered myself into the small booth opposite of him, fixating my eyes on the shell of the boy I had known and hatred every moment of my life the last five years.

If at all possible, he looked far worse than he had before being discharged from the hospital. The episode in the Laser Tag ring must have taken a bigger toll on him than he was letting on, as the bags under his eyes were so heavy that they were forcing them shut. His cheeks were ashen, lacking the dark red of embarrassment that had stung them less than ten minutes ago. Finally, I fell back into the booth and whispered, "What do you remember, Alex?"

He didn't budge at first and for a moment I thought he truly hadn't heard me. Then, at lightning speed his dark eyes widened a fraction and he cocked his head in my direction. "It doesn't matter, Willow."

"Anything you remember matters." I reminded. "You've been being a little bit of jackass since the hotel. What's going on?"

"Why do you hate me so much?" Was his response. "I know whatever I did must have been pretty fucking shitty because you won't even look me in the eyes without cringing."

I dropped my gaze to the table under my clenched fist. "You followed your heart and I was selfish for hating you for taking the next step in achieving your dreams."

"But what exactly did I do, Willow?"

"We were thirteen, well you were, I had a couple more months until I was." I started, crossing my arms and meeting his eyes. "As you can see, my dad and I, we don't get along. He left my brother, mother, and me when I was three and I hadn't seen him since. Not until he weaseled his way behind my back and asked you to join Eleven Eleven. At the time, the band was no more than a bunch of young, teenage boys who my father swore up and down would be the next One Direction. I went with you to your first meeting with him, which also just happened to also mean you'd become friendly with the rest of the boys as well. The second you stepped into the recording studio, I saw this look in your eyes, a look that had long since faded after your parents. . .I just hadn't seen it in a long time."

Xander leaned forward, his elbow digging into his leg as he nodded for me to continue.

"I knew at that point I'd already lost you, but I held on to the hope that your hatred for my dad would overpower your desire to cave into all that he was offering to you. That maybe the boys were all going to be a bunch of egotistical little jerks." I diverted my eyes from Xander to find the rest of the boys had joined us in the RV and were listening as intently as my best friend. "Of course they weren't. They were so incredibly sweet and charming that I even fell victim to the whole façade for a while. Then my father sat you down in that shitty metal chair in front of his desk and he asked you if you wanted to join the boys, to be a popstar. He promised you the world in the palm of your hands and you so wishfully fell right into his expectant embrace. And I walked out of the recording studio and that was the last I saw of you."

Xander opened his mouth to speak, but Mason cut him off before he could. "That's not all that happened. Once you signed the contract, you two got into a nasty fight. Willow gave you an ultimatum of us or her."